


Crimson, Ruby, Scarlet

by Katology



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Gen, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Horror, Poor harry just wants to live a normal life, Voldemort is super creepy, like dude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 06:18:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17596043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katology/pseuds/Katology
Summary: There stood Harry, atop a rocky cliff with salty tears running down his cheeks.Voldemort smiled lipless.His precious Horcrux is broken.





	Crimson, Ruby, Scarlet

“Harry Potter,” Voldemort hissed softly, fingering his yew wand between his fingers.

 

A strong wind gusted between them both, lapping up their tattered, battle-weathered robes. It whispered against Harry’s heated skin, the scent of the salt and algae almost intoxicating.

 

Lord Voldemort stood there; barefoot, unconcerned with the way the jagged rock threatened to cut into the soles of his feet. His dramatic black robes fluttered in the wind, making him almost look delicate, white skin contrasting painfully with the fabric, muted sky, and red eyes.

 

Those red orbs are like the only color in the endless sea of of shadowed grays and greens.

 

Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter locked eyes; the former titled his head in thought.

 

There are a confusing mixture of emotions. Hatred was plain to see. But it is was the warring emotions, the antithesis to what was undeniably present, that gave credence that this boy; the boy that led to his downfall–

 

 _knew_.

 

The Dark Lord gave a cold laugh, chilling. Not unlike a dementor scraping their chilling fingers down Harry’s chin as it drew in for a kiss.

 

“So you know,” Voldemort mused, not taking his eyes away from the boy. He watched avidly for Harry’s reaction, and he gave another soft laugh when he saw the hardening of his eyes and the twitch in his jaw, “Oh this is delightful Harry,” he crowed.

 

Harry’s jaw gave another twitch and his knuckles turned white, gripped around his own wand tightly, “What do you want Riddle,” he spat, “Are you going to kill me anyways? Lock me in a dungeon until I either lose my sanity or commit suicide?” His hands went through his hair, fingers trembling.

 

“I didn’t ask for this!” he suddenly screamed, cutting through the tranquility of his surroundings like a gunshot, “I didn’t ask to be martyred, I didn’t ask practically be a bloody house-elf for eleven plus years, I didn’t ask to be almost killed annually!”

 

Harry didn’t seem to be done with the tirade, and Voldemort just watched calmly, wand tipping dangerously low towards the ground, becoming looser in his spindly fingers.

 

Harry was dangerously close to crying, he could feel the telltale signs; a lump in his throat, the distorted blurring of his already crappy vision, the burning in his lungs. A sob escaped him as his wand dropped with a clatter, lying still on the water-enclosed cliff side.

 

He was breaking down in front of his parents murderer; whom could kill him at any moment. Voldemort could slit his throat and watch the light escape his eyes.

 

Voldemort could grip his throat and wait for spittle to go down his chin as he chokes the last vestiges of his humanity away.

 

“Fear,” Harry mumbled as the world drained away in a whirlpool. This was fear; without the adrenaline and a goal, it was paralyzing.

 

Harry realized in this moment he doesn’t want to die.

 

There was a small hitch in breath, barely noticeable amidst the rasping breaths of the broken boy in front of him, the calming rushing of the waves crashing into the rocky walls.

 

Time stood still for a moment. It was like every moment in human history, every event, rushed by them. It was a culmination of everything; a feminine scream of agony and a flash of green light, tying a white bunny on an orphanage ceiling…

 

Harry felt a cold finger on his chin, and a gentle push; and yet the pointed fingernail dug into the skin of his delicate neck.

 

Voldemort smiled, and it was a terrible thing. And yet the worst was the pity and understanding in his fiery gaze, “You don’t have to die,” he said softly, “My _precious_ Horcrux,”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a small oneshot, which I originally posted on tumblr. Thank you for reading! Comment your thoughts because I'm a slut for feedback, good or bad. :)
> 
> ~Katelynn Irene Lovegood


End file.
